


Reluctant

by GangstaCrow



Series: Talk [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Pining, Thought Projection, the sequel that isn't really a sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GangstaCrow/pseuds/GangstaCrow
Summary: He supposes this isn't completely terrible. At least he doesn't hate Yahaba, and sure, he'll still be worrying about not making a complete ass of himself in front of someone who's part of the small group of people that can stand to be around him, but it could be worse.How, he has no fucking idea, but it could be.Or: Putting your trust in someone else isn't always a bad thing.





	Reluctant

**Author's Note:**

> i am posting this at 11:21 PM E.S.T on the 31 of December, so i technically got it out before 2018  
> also this is a piece of shit that im only squeezing out so it'll be done before midnight. technically a sequel to Talk, but can be read on it's own.  
> and i know it sucks and its all over the place but im having too much trouble with it to fix it sooo its gonna stay bad sorry not sorry

Kentarou’s never had a friend over his house before. Now that he thinks about it, he's never had any friends to have over in the first place. He was always a loner. In primary school he spent time with his older sisters, and even when they graduated before him, he never made the effort to make his own friends. When he entered middle school, he stayed alone. Nobody cared about him beyond cowering behind their friends upon seeing his cloud of continual annoyance and anger, and he was too worried about making sure he didn't royally screw up his life to go out of his way to change his image. It was much easier to be alone than to be well liked with constant judgement concerning his every move. This attitude persisted through high school, seeped into every part of his life, and even now he's not close enough to anyone to invite them over.

Unless of course they're named Yahaba Shigeru, in which case they invite _themselves_ over.

Without warning.

Over break.

On a Saturday.

Which he supposes isn't completely terrible. At least he doesn't hate Yahaba, and sure, he'll still be worrying about not making a complete ass of himself in front of someone who's part of the small group of people that can stand to be around him, but it could be worse.

How, he has no fucking idea, but it could be.

He's making sure to keep his breathing as quiet as possible as he walks next to Yahaba. The road to his house has never felt so long. As he lets his eyes wander to his house further down the road, he can only imagine how his oldest sister would tease him mercilessly if she could see him now, trying not to act like a freak in front of someone he claims to not have any special relationship with, which f.y.i, he _doesn't._

Still, that doesn't change the fact that he kind of wants to die just for thinking about all the ways he could royally screw this up in combination with what that anxiety implies about himself. His face is surely as red as he thinks it is, and he tries to bury it into his scarf to hide it.

This shouldn't be that big of a deal. They're friends. They're teammates. He goes over Yahaba’s house to study sometimes, usually with Watari, only ever on his own once a few weeks ago. Yet no matter how much he tries to convince himself this is perfectly normal, Kentarou can't help but believe that going to his house is something more than a bond between a captain and ace.

Private. Intimate. Something he'd never do for just anyone. He doesn't know how exactly to describe it, but he knows that's exactly how it feels.

Yahaba seems to get it too. He's the one that initiated this whole thing, yet he's more shifty than Kentarou is. He keeps fidgeting with his phone, putting it in and pulling it out of his pocket without doing anything with it. His eyes jump from every little detail they pass, bushes, doors, gates, anything and everything.

And if Kentarou’s staring at the way Yahaba’s hair frames his face as his head makes these minuscule movements, it's because he thinks Yahaba’s hair is weird, and that's the end of that.

Kentarou’s eyes lock onto the gate to his house and he nudges Yahaba. “This one.”

Yahaba’s shoulder brushes against his when he stops and Kentarou freezes.

That was… uh… _new._

It doesn't make the spot become enveloped with a lasting warmth, it sends a sharp jolt of electricity throughout his entire body, causing every hair on his body to stand on edge.

And it kind of felt _good._

Which is freaky, and probably some kind of kink Kentarou doesn't think is socially acceptable to have, so he's never going to mention what just happened out loud to anyone, ever. He glances at Yahaba to see if he noticed it at all, but he hadn't. He's just staring at the door with this weird look on his face.

Determined? No, too intense. Resolved? No, not that either. Committed? Not that either.

It's strong though. It makes his eyes seem a bit brighter and his shoulders more set.

But he doesn't care obviously. Just making an observation.

Kentarou pulls out his key and unlocks the front door, leaving it open for Yahaba as he enters. As he leans over to take off his shoes, he's still met with the frigid air from outside. He glances up to see Yahaba steel himself before stepping inside.

And Kentarou remembers his parents aren't home.

They went back to work as soon as Christmas ended.

Which means that they're alone.

In his house.

With that, he instantly become acutely aware of every single problem with his surroundings. The cracks in the paint near the ceiling seem larger than they've ever been. The shoes in the stack sitting in front of the closet are significantly more dirty than Kentarou remembers them being. The coats shoved haphazardly inside of the closet next to the door are worn and faded, so many shoved inside that it's door has barely managed to get closed. The house still smells like yesterday's dinner, and the scent of curry permeates throughout every room on the first floor. Bits of tinsel and wrapping paper litter the floor from his brothers antics. There are makeup bags and suitcases still here that his sisters forgot to take with them when they went back to their apartments.

None of this stuff had bothered him before. It's just a part of his life, something that comes with living in a big ass family. But he's never thought of bringing someone here, and now that he has, he's suddenly aware of how his house looks like a hurricane has barreled through.

He hates what this does to him. He hates how he actually cares about how his house looks to someone who doesn't even live here.

Honestly. Internally suffering about everything wrong with his house isn't what he wanted to get out of this experience.

Actually… what _does_ he want out of this?

Whatever, that isn't important right now. What really matters is the fact that Yahaba’s closing the door behind him to leave the two of them _alone_ in a house that Kentarou’s suddenly deemed unsuitable for visitors because he's a fucking idiot that cares about stupid Yahaba’s stupid opinion with his stupid hair and his stupid face and his stupid _everything._

He'll admit that this is probably another example of karma coming to kick his ass for him being a dick for the past few years, but if he's being honest, that's not really his fault.

Sure, if you wanted to get technical, then yeah, it can he argued that Kentarou’s assoholic bitch behavior is owed to nobody but himself.

But who needs technicalities when all he needs to do is point to the ignorant loudmouths he's cursed with for classmates to show exactly where his social deterrent and ineptitude originated from.

Kentarou nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels something brush against his hand. Yahaba’s standing a lot closer than he should be for someone who likes to kick off his shoes like a madman. That slight jolt of electricity turns into a continuous stream of shockwaves coursing throughout his body as Yahaba rests a hand on his shoulder to take off his shoes without falling over. Kentarou can barely formulate any thought in his mind beyond the chanting of _holy shit_ in his mind accompanied by the sweat forming on the back of his neck. His eyes can't seem to focus on anything since his brain is totally fried, and Yahaba asks him something that he can't comprehend in his current state.

A kick to the shin brings Kentarou back to his senses, but even so, he barely manages to sputter out anything at all. “What..?”

“I asked if you were okay. You were staring off into the abyss like you were looking for something.”

See, now this is the kind of thing Kentarou was trying to avoid. He’s only just set foot inside his house and he's already done something to make himself look like a fool. _It's_ fine, _just play it cool. He won't even notice._ “You mean aside from the money I should be getting paid by bringing you over?”

He gets a huff in response as Yahaba shrugs off his coat, Kentarou doing the same. “Yes, aside from that. Though you should know that friends don't pay each other to come over. If they did, I would have made you pay me every time you wanted to see Poncho.”

Kentarou can't believe what he's hearing, and he glares at Yahaba. “You'd deprive a child of their parent with your greed?”

Yahaba narrows his eyes. “You're not his dad. I am.”

Kentarou clicks his teeth. “Barely.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Kentarou stands up straight to walk out of the entryway, listening to Yahaba as he follows him up the stairs. “It means that my son loves me and he thinks your mediocre.”

He hears Yahaba stumble behind him. Ha. “He's not your son!”

“Sure.”

“Shut the fuck up. And who are you to judge how I raise my dog? He loves me just fine!”

Kentarou snorts as he remembers all the times he went to Yahaba’s place with Watari, and can count on one hand when Poncho paid more attention to Yahaba than him.

It was once, and Yahaba cheated with treats because he was that desperate.

“Look, I'm not sayin’ your dog hates you, because that's not true. All I'm sayin’ is that Poncho knows who he loves the most, and since it's not you, there's only one person it can be.”

Yahaba grits his teeth, and Kentarou braces himself for the yelling. “You know-” A pause. Kentarou glances over his shoulder to see Yahaba’s face tinged pink before he hears him mutter. “I'm still his number one dad.”

Kentarou turns to him when he reaches the top of the stairs to make sure he sees the way he smiles. “Uh huh. Sure.”

Yahaba’s face turns from that light pink to a deep crimson. He kind of looks like he's about to explode, though his expression makes Kentarou wonder if it's really out of anger or if it’s out of embarrassment.

Kentarou gets the urge to reach out to him, which makes himself groan internally from a combination of bewilderment and exasperation.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Why is his mind trying to literally, not figuratively, ruin his life? It's bad enough he's got a Yahaba sensor installed in his head telling him what he's doing whenever they're together, but now that there's nobody around to serve as a buffer, it seems that his mere presence is sending Kentarou into the process of self destruction… minus the explodey part. For now.

Kentarou wordlessly leads Yahaba to his room at the end of the hall, the smallest of them all, courtesy of him being the youngest in the house. He usually doesn't have an issue with it since it's not like he has much in there anyway- a desk, a bed, a smallish tv- but now he thinks it'd be nice to have a little more space. Yahaba doesn't seem to notice, eyes giving a final look at the doors in the hall as he steps in the room, his face returning to its normal coloring. “How many siblings do you _have?”_

Good. They're back to normal friend stuff. “Five. Three sisters and two brothers.”

Yahaba gives him a sympathetic glance. “And they all live here?”

“Not anymore, but they might as well with how often they visit.” Just imagining the arguing and the rambunctious laughter in the house from two days ago sets the foundation for another headache.

“Well I can see why you hate loud noises so much. It probably gives you flashbacks to your childhood, which I'm going to assume is traumatic given how much of a sour assface you are.”

“...That was pretty good.”

Yahaba’s chest puffs up and a smug smile spreads across his face. “Right? I came up with it this morning and I've been waiting to use it.”

Kentarou flops facedown on his bed, voice muffled as he snorts. “Whoop-de-fuckin-do.”

Yahaba’s messing with his tv and going through his pile of video games, but Kentarou doesn't make any effort to move from where he is.

Does he really seem like he comes from a troubled home? He gets _why_ people would think so, it’s not anything out of the ordinary. Assuming someone grew up in a broken or difficult home is the most logical conclusion to come to when they're a supreme asshole- bullies create bullies and all that jazz. But Kentarou hadn't had that happen. He grew up with a family that loved him, he just… drifted away from them. He never liked all the attention they tried to give him, and eventually, they stopped giving it to him.

But he doesn't hate them for that. He gets annoyed at some of the things they do, but he doesn't hate them.

Does his attitude make it seem like he hates them?

He's ripped from his thoughts with Yahaba tapping the back of his head lightly. “What new games did you get for the holidays?”

Kentarou turns his head to the side so he can speak clearly. “I dunno.”

“What do you mean you don't know? How do you not know what you got for Christmas?”

Kentarou shoves his earlier thoughts into the back of his head for the moment to focus on the manifestation of prissiness in front of him. “It means what I said. All I got to do was unwrap my presents before comin’ back up here.”

“You didn't even play them?”

“Nope. I had a killer migraine and didn't wanna make the extra effort to actually do anything.”

“Oh. Well that sucks.”

Maybe.

Yahaba’s back to sifting through his pile of games and Kentarou can't help but eye him as he does so. Would playing games all day be okay, or should he try to do something else? It's not like he has experience with entertaining guests so he's not sure what he's supposed to be doing. What kind of things does he do at Yahaba’s? Eat food. Drink all his soda and juice. Annoy him. Should they be doing that now? Is he supposed to start a conversation that'll piss one of them off? Offer Yahaba something to eat or drink? Kick him? Kis-

_Nope. Definitely not that. Get your mind outta the gutter._

But now that he's thinking about it, he can't stop.

Because it wouldn't be hard in theory, would it? All he would have to do is wait for boredom to set in to rob them of any logical thought, lean over him, and do it.

If he really wanted to, he'd do it.

But what would happen after that?

What will happen after he does it- if he does it? Will Yahaba laugh in his face? Will he gag from disgust? Will be give him a look of pity one might reserve for stray animals? Will he tell everyone he knows?

Even worse, will Yahaba want to _talk_ about it? Even worse than that, what will other people think when they find out?

And for some reason, those are the two things that stop him above all else. Not his common sense telling him nothing good would come from it and not his anxiety ridden rage about how he's basically giving someone the master key to everything about himself.

Yahaba hums as he waits for the game to install, his back to the edge of Kentarou’s bed. “I read some good reviews about this a few months ago, so I'm expecting great things from this game.”

Kentarou nods and answers absentmindedly. “If it sucks then you can take it with you when you leave. I sure as hell won't be playin’ it.”

This. This is easy. He can do this kind of casual banter without even thinking, he doesn't have to worry about saying too much or trying to cover himself if he miraculously manages to screw it up. It's become second nature to him at this point. Yet whenever the two of them start to have an actual heart to heart talk, it turns into the equivalent of an interrogation. He has to physically force himself to speak and his nerves always make him turn whatever he says into short tempered remarks. Sometimes Yahaba gets it and doesn't push too hard, knows when to reel it back, but there's been a good number of times where he sends them both into silence after Kentarou snaps since he doesn't know when to quit.

Yahaba lets out a low whistle. “These graphics are amazing.”

Kentarou snorts despite feeling himself falling into a hole. “Only you would pop a boner from something like that.”

“Don't be an ass.”

Kentarou knows that his hesitation doesn't stem from distrust. He's gotten past that bullshit already. He already knows that if he wanted to, he could tell Yahaba all about the storm raging inside his head without fear of him telling anybody else. But he's holding himself back because he knows the second het lets him in, he'll have crossed a line to enter territory he's never been before.

The worst part is that he _wants_ to. And it scares him. It scares the shit out of him.

His hesitation stems from _fear._

“She kind of reminds me of your mom.”

“How so?”

“Same hair color.”

“Why do you think everyone with grey or white hair is related to me?”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

He knows exactly why he's afraid. It's not for commitment issues or worries about Yahaba’s sexual preferences, it's because of what it would mean. It would mean that he's making the statement that he's willing to give himself to somebody else in exchange for… what exactly?

Something cheesy probably.

He's afraid because he's actively acknowledging that he wants to be with someone that's a giant pain in his ass. They fight regularly and it always gets to the point where they're close enough for their noses to touch. They know so little about each other yet know so much more than anybody else could ever dream of. They piss each other off so much that Kentarou can't focus on anything else, his heart squeezing and his body running on overdrive. He feels every miniscule touch for hours after it happens, and even though all of these things annoy the everloving fuck out of him, he cannot, for the life of him, stay away.

And he _likes_ it. A lot.

And that's the problem.

“Why did they send this kid out here? He's probably gonna die at the end of the game, I'm calling it now.”

“Yahaba, you literally just met him. He could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“Nah, he looks too much like a twink for that.”

While Kentarou does begrudgingly recognize what these feelings are, he realizes how utterly hopeless this whole situation is due to the simple fact that he's the one involved.

He can't give Yahaba what he wants. He can't make him happy and can't make him stop the stupid worrisome looks he gets when nobody else is looking and can't be the nice young man he brags about to friends.

How can he be when he's got all this extra baggage tied to his very being with no hope of removing it on his own? Thoughts that act as a constant weight, reminding him day and night of who he is and what he's done every time he wakes up. No matter how blatantly toxic they are, they've become a part of who he is. He has a system put in place to deal with them, no matter how small it is and no matter how little it helps. How is he supposed to let down his guard and spill the deepest, darkest thoughts in his mind for one person? How is he supposed to knowingly push this burden onto someone he cares about?

He _can't._

Even when he tries to force the words out in the privacy of his empty house in his locked bedroom, he can't do it. He physically can't.

What if he accidentally lets something slip that’s so ridiculous that Yahaba laughs at him? What if Yahaba sees him for the weak person he really is? What if Yahaba hates what he hears and turns his back on him?

That would _crush_ him.

“Why are they making me turn on self destruct? I don't wanna kill myself on accident or something.”

“How do you kill yourself on accident?”

“... by accidentally forgetting to breath?”

“They're androids. They don't breath.”

“Jeez, what is this, roast Yahaba hour? Don't nag me!”

His mind likes to contradict itself all the time when it comes to Yahaba, it can never decide on anything. He wants to get closer to him, yet he'd rather stay alone. He wants to take him up on his offer to talk, yet he wants to keep everything inside so nobody has to see. He wants Yahaba to stop worrying about him yet doesn't take the steps he should to make it happen. Yahaba doesn't get it. There's no way he could possibly understand how desperately Kentarou doesn't want to screw this up, how desperately he wants to keep him around for as long as he can.

“Do you think they're gonna fuck at some point? Because this kid looks 12 years old and that seems like it'd be pedophilia.”

“They're androids. Age of consent doesn't apply… I don't think. And besides, he's probably like 30 or something.”

“Whatever you say professor Kyoutani.”

“Fuck you.”

Kentarou lets his eyes come back into focus and lets his gaze wander to Yahaba. Even from the side he can see the smoothness of his face and the imperfections that are barely visible across the expanses of his skin. Yahaba has his full attention on the tv and the game he's put in, and Kentarou doesn't even know what it's called. He hasn't been paying attention at all. Kentarou eyes hone in on Yahaba’s hair. That stupid piece is still sticking up and it's kind of weird. “You ever try using gel in your hair?”

Yahaba pauses the game and turns to him, those stupid soft brown eyes full of curiosity and a hint of self consciousness. “No, why?”

Kentarou hopes he doesn't sound as whipped as he feels. “The little-"

Yahaba’s cheeks turn pink as he smiles sheepishly. “Oh. That. Yeah, I don't get it either. I tried to cut it once but it just grew back after a week.”

“That's… weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

Yahaba rolls his eyes as his shoulders shake with laughter. “I'm aware, but thanks for reminding me.”

This is the kind of thing that makes him want to try. Those doubts and fuel for hesitation still blare in his mind like sirens, yet Kentarou feels like it could be okay.

If being with Yahaba could be this easy, if talking to him and spending time with him and trusting him could be as simple as the almost instinctive banter they engage in, then he probably shouldn't overthink this too much. But he will. He always does when it comes to him. And that should be a red flag, yet it seems he's turned off his better judgement for the day.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Me and Watari are heading up to the shrine. You wanna come with?”

“I guess.”

“Well well, I didn't even have to force you. You've grown.”

“Not really.”

“You don't think so?”

“I'm the same as I've always been.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say Kyoutani.”

That's a lie. He has changed. But-

_Nope. We're done with that._

_No more buts. No more excuses._

Yahaba’s proved time and time again that he's strong enough to deal with him. His arrogance, his temper, his stubbornness, his insurmountable problems. Everything about him.

And he's here to stay.

_Might as well make it harder for him to leave._

Kentarou swallows all his regrets into the pit of his stomach, shovels every thought unrelated to what he's about to do into a room with a door covered with padlocks, and lets out a deep breath.

“Actually, I think I may have gotten dumber.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The fact that I got a crush on you, for one.”

“...”

“...”

“...Wait, what?!”

 

* * *

 

He doesn't hear the end of it. That confession was so poorly timed, there was no fanfare, blah blah blah, why didn't you say something sooner, of course I'll go out with you so why would you even ask like I'd say no, even more blah blah.

Kentarou feels like he's walking through limbo. Everything is so surreal and his face is probably steaming from how hot it feels.

But everything goes fine.

His brain shuts down for a while and none of his previous thoughts make an appearance.

It's nice.

 

* * *

 

The New Year of 2018 brings lasting bonds. He learns that one of his brother's is getting married, one of his sister's has a new girlfriend, and his mother's having another baby.

In the weeks that follow the first day of the New Year, he creates an even stronger bond with Yahaba. And even though it's earned him a whole lot of headaches from current and past teammates, it's also given him an alleviated conscience and a swelling heart.

Which he supposes he can learn to live with.

**Author's Note:**

> this is shitty, but let me know if i should make a sequel to this sequel as some kind of finale where they actually talk about shit.
> 
> ten points for everyone who leaves a comment  
> fifty bonus points to whoever can figure out the game yahaba was playin  
> if you wanna scream at me, follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/gangstacrowtwit)


End file.
